Feel On the Dark
by RL.Angstshipping
Summary: Malik and Ryou are apart of a class trip to a haunted house. The ghosts? Mariku and Bakura, naturally. Psychoshipping. Angstshipping. Vague conspireshipping. Magical. Yes.
1. First Sight

**Feel on the Dark**  
written by RL.Angstshipping  
_say goodbye to the hindering past;_

**Author's Note: **Originally started on April 5th, 2007, this fan fiction was edited on March 2nd, 2008. Despite what you may believe, it will be completed.

This originally started as a roleplay and was then rewritten in an actual story. It is alternate universe so the names used will be as follows: Ryou (Bakura Ryou), Malik (Malik Ishtar), Bakura (Yami no Bakura), and Mariku (Yami no Malik).

First Sight

( P A S T )  
_Not Quite Humble Beginnings_

The thief Bakura had always seen himself in a godly light. He'd survived raid after raid, fight after fight, that eventually, as his companion, Mariku, would put it, he'd let victory go to his head. While he had the stealth and agility expected of a thief, he preferred more showy tactics, things he could boast about later in times to come. Perhaps this attitude of immortality was what led him to the less cautious approach in which he dealt with tonight's raid.

Too busy fishing through drawers, Bakura barely paid any attention to the woman screaming on the bed beside him. Woman? Perhaps girl was the more appropriate word -- she couldn't be older than seventeen. Then again, his companion (currently pinning said 'girl' to her position) was barely eighteen, so perhaps Bakura was simply catering to sex among children. Either way, it kept both the girl and Mariku out of his way.

"Stop screaming, you dumb bitch," Mariku purred, tone silky smooth, the ideal (as strange as that was) background noise for Bakura's heist. "This will be easier for both of us if you just relax."

Mariku barely finished his sentence when the room was filled with a gunshot, the sound of which startled (even the great) Bakura, causing the normally composed thief to drop the bracelet he'd been holding. It hit the floor with a loud clang (though quiet in comparison to the shot), causing Bakura to wince. Never in all his years of thieving had he dropped something. Slowly turning around, the sight that greeted Bakura chilled his blood. Mariku had collapsed atop the girl, blood seeping through his previously sandy blonde hair. It splattered the wall behind them as well as the girl, too busy sobbing to do the sensible thing and climb to her feet.

Bakura's lips parted, waiting for words to surface. The barrel of the gun was pointed in his direction now but that seemed almost meaningless. Expected, as he knew the outcome, so why play through the pointless events? _'Mariku, you whore, your worthless hormones are going to get us killed one day.'_ Ironic how that common statement had become an earth-shattering reality. The Egyptian, his Egyptian, was dead, face first in the nightgown-covered chest of his vi-- No, she had yet to become his victim. She was simply the stupid broad who'd gotten his Mariku killed.

The man holding the gun, the dumb bitch's father best he could tell, was shouting at him, words even more meaningless than the actions occurring before him. In response, the thief only smirked, bending down to retrieve the dropped bracelet. The action hardly pleased 'father-dearest' as he recocked the gun. Now snarling, Bakura faced him head on. "Go ahead, old man," he offered, tone strangely calm given the situation. "Try as you may, I am immortal."

The next gunshot seemed to prove otherwise, piercing Bakura's chest and causing the thief to stumble forward, collapsing to his knees. A cough caused a spurt of blood to bubble up from his lips, spilling over his chin. The man fired again and Bakura fell face forward, clutching the bracelet tightly in his hand (he wouldn't drop it again). The smirk, though pained, never faded. Brown eyes locking with those of his killer, Bakura sputtered, "Fool. Darkness never dies."

( P R E S E N T )  
_The Worst Class Trip_

It was no secret that Malik Ishtar didn't like ghosts. He'd made that fact clear from the moment the class decided to take their spring trip to a 'haunted house'. Between Isis' urging him to be more social and Ryou's constant pleas, he'd given in and signed up for the trip, but only after making it known that he didn't believe in ghosts. If anything strange happened, it was rigged. That statement was more for himself than Ryou.

Looking up at the house now, Malik wore a bitter expression. It was a stock horror home, kept in poor condition purposely to keep the effect (Malik could only assume that drew more customers). One foot still firmly planted on the bus step and the other sinking into the mud, the reluctant blonde further examined the estate that would serve as his home for the next five days. The windows were caked with years of dust, some cracked. Few were lucky enough to be graced with shutters and the shutters that had remained were barely hanging by their hinges. The wood siding was rotten and decaying, making the home look anything but fit to stay in. Malik couldn't help but wonder if the entire house would collapse during their stay.

A gentle nudge on his shoulder served to remind him that he needed to move on, needed to quit staring the house down as though he were waiting for it to start doing tricks. Hesitantly, his second foot met the ground with a sickening shwiick -- mud had to be one of the things Malik hated most -- and he quickly looked back over his shoulder.

Bakura Ryou, with his excited smile, wasn't exactly the reassurance that Malik had been looking for. Of course, his best friend was the complete and polar opposite of him. Where Ryou was timid and shy, Malik was vocal and gregarious. Where Ryou made a point to always be polite, Malik's point was for people to know exactly what he thought about them. Most relevant to the situation, however, was the fact that Ryou adored everything occult, the one interest (putting it lightly -- Ryou was practically obsessed) that made Malik feel awkward around the other. This field trip was practically a dream come true to the paler teen.

Playfully tapping on Malik's shoulder, Ryou filed off the bus after him. Adjusting the bag on his shoulder, the silver-haired boy motioned for Malik to follow, words bubbling energetically from his lips. "Let's get up front, Malik! I want to be the first one inside."

Though reluctance was still planted on his face, Malik obeyed, following the other to the front of the group. Closer to the house, his enemy. Narrowing his eyes at the ratty building, he once again tried to convince himself that ghosts weren't real. When that failed, he glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the class. Most were busy chatting about the house and the week before them among a few other pointless topics.

Beside him, Ryou took his hand, a tender motion that made Malik blush slightly. "Malik?"

Waiting a moment (hoping the blush would fade before Ryou saw it), Malik turned to Ryou, "Hmm?"

A grin crossed his friend's face, "This will be fun, I promise. I'll protect you." He chuckled as he attempted to look brave.

Malik snickered, "No thanks, Ryou." He squeezed the pale hand. "I can handle a ghost."

Ryou bit his lip, horror story on his tongue. Now wasn't the time to convince Malik otherwise, despite how tempting it was.

Thankfully, their teacher, Mrs. Kinomiya, interrupted him in time by stepping up to the top stair of the porch (at only 5'0", she was hard to see otherwise). Voice shrill, she began to explain the rules of the week -- basically the trip was 'free reign' with certain times for meals. It would be two to a room and she'd assign partners privately. That said, she hopped down from the stairs.

To Ryou's delight, she spoke to him first. "You and Malik are together. No surprise, I'm sure. You're in room 17 which will be at the end of the hall." Then, leaning in further, possibly because of her shared interest in the occult, she whispered with a grin, "That's the room the ghosts were supposedly murdered in."

Ryou's eyes lit up, hand tightening once again on his bag. One glance to Malik, however, stalled his excitement. Despite his attempt to stay calm, disdain still lined the Egyptian's face. "… We might as well unpack, right?"

As much as Malik wanted to protest, he nodded. He hadn't bothered trying to sleep on the bus and if he was lucky, he'd be able to finally get a nap.

_Forever In Death_

Mariku watched from the attic stairs, arms folded across his chest. Despite the years they'd spent together in life, in death Bakura and Mariku remained mostly apart.

"What is it?" Bakura's gruff voice was laced with a thick hatred; time didn't heal all wounds.

Mariku smirked, never hesitating to show pleasure at another's distress. "I told you, didn't I?" The manipulative tone only further increased Bakura's agitation. "… Oh, I must have forgotten. Pity."

Hateful tone replaced with nonchalance, Bakura gazed at his companion, "Are you going to tell me or continue your pathetic attempt at a taunt?"

Mariku ran his tongue over his bottom lip, drawing their time together further out. Like Bakura, he was stubborn, but unlike the pale thief, he had patience. Drumming his fingers against his thigh, he began, "Well, it could have been… mm, two days? Or… was it three?"

Bakura slid off the suitcase that served as his seat, approaching Mariku and cupping the other's chin. Leaning in, lips barely apart from the Egyptian's, he smirked, "Does time matter?"

The slight chill was all that Mariku could feel, though his fingers increased their pace -- a distraction, and gods, he needed one. Closing the gap, Mariku kissed Bakura, an agitated gasp escaping his lips. In death, their was no release from lust. Breaking away, hateful gaze on Bakura, Mariku hissed, "We have company."

Bakura's hands fell from Mariku's face. "Hmm." Shoving the other from his path, Bakura walked down the flight of stairs. "Are they here?"

"Yes, they were piling off the bus, last I checked," Mariku answered, following closely behind his companion. Bakura didn't have to turn around to know the other was smirking, "I only caught a brief glimpse, but I believe my guest," his because she was staying in the master bedroom (the teacher's always did) which had become Mariku's main place of dwelling, "is quite worthy of my company."

Rolling his eyes, Bakura rounded the corner that led to the next flight of stairs. "I'm afraid I couldn't care less." Reaching the bottom, he headed to the front door, peering out the window. He was silent a moment before cursing. Slamming his fist against the window, the amount of emotion behind the action actually shattered the window. "Those fucking cunts!"

Unphased, Mariku leaned against the stairwell, eyebrow raised. "Is there a problem?"

The question seemed rhetorical as far as the thief was concerned, bitter, brown eyes focused on the two boys in the front -- mirror images of what they had once been. "The gods are punishing us. As if they haven't enough already, they--"

He was cut off as Mariku approached the window, lips curved into a grin. "Punishing us? So sacrilegious, Bakura, dear. Can't you see this is a favor?"

End First Sight


	2. Second Sight

**Feel on the Dark**  
by RL.Angstshipping  
_say good-bye to the hindering past;_

Second Sight

_All My Incentive_

With no visible cause, it was only natural that the shattering glass stirred up a ruckus among the students. Malik, though he'd remained outwardly calm, had kept his violet eyes fixated on the area. It was possible that this entire place was rigged, that these 'freak' accidents were all set up. To Malik, that seemed the most logical – the most logical and least nerve-wracking.

At his side, Ryou stood in a daze, heart beating quickly in his chest. Was that a ghost? If it was, why was he just standing here? Turning to Malik, unable to contain his grin, he stated, "We might as well go inside!"

Heart-sinking (Malik had been dreading these words), the Egyptian nodded slowly. Might as well; it wasn't as if he could avoid this forever.

_Devious and You_

The idea that this sick twist of fate was a favor seemed unlikely to Bakura. After all, what favor involved two people who could practically be your twins showing up at your doorstep and flaunting their _life_? Gruffly, the thief (king) snapped, "No, I can't."

The negative response made his companion grin darkly (for Mariku loved having the upper hand) and the Egyptian stepped forward to run his finger over the broken glass. "Don't you see? The gods delivered us a second chance at life."

Bakura narrowed his eyes. As always, Mariku was being frustratingly vague. "You're welcome to get to the point."

"Am I?" came the annoying dark purr of the Egyptian as he licked his lips. "… We can affect physical objects, yes?"

Bakura didn't answer the question as it didn't merit a response. "Is this relevant?"

"Of course," Mariku huffed, taking a step towards the other. "With a decent amount of focus, we can affect the physical world. It may take a lot of energy but, if I'm correct in my assumption, we could take control of them from the inside out - a power surge, if you will."

"Possession." The word rolled off of Bakura's tongue as the thief glanced once more out the window. The theory made sense… "When?"

Mariku shrugged. "Anytime we get them alone." He chuckled lightly at the statement. "Though, the first time or two, I imagine we won't have the bodies long."

"Long enough."

_Thrill of the Hunt_

The porch step creaked under Malik's weight, Ryou bouncing quietly behind him. Malik didn't allow himself time to hesitate as he opened the front door. The stench of antique furniture and mildew was the first thing to greet him. Coughing, he readjusted his bag, "Our room's upstairs, right?"

His response was muffled so he glanced over his shoulder. Ryou glanced at him, puzzled a moment. "Uh-huh, yeah. Upstairs, last room on the right. Did… you say something else?"

Malik shook his head as he started up the stairs. The railing was half-rotting away and Malik couldn't help but wonder if this place met safety regulations.

They made it to the end of the hallway and found their room, the door ajar and all too inviting. Pushing it with his foot, Malik forced it open the rest of the way. The room was plain enough: one double bed was in the center of the far wall with a nightstand on either side and an antique desk was against the right wall. Other than that, the room was fairly bare.

Malik set his suitcase on the bed, plopping down beside it. "We made it up here alive. That's a good sign, right?"

Ryou chuckled, "Or maybe they just want us to think we're safe." He approached the bed as well, placing his bag on Malik's feet and unzipping it. "So, do you think I can put my clothes in the closet?"

Malik eyed the suitcase on his feet, lifting it slightly. "It certainly beats where you've got them now."

Another small laugh and Ryou opened the suitcase, deciding that perhaps it would be best to check how much space they had in the closet before he began unpacking. With company, it would only be polite if they divided the space evenly. Moving to the closet door, he slid it open after some effort to get it unstuck. To his surprise, their was already one outfit there, jammed into the back corner. Leaning in, he took it off the hanger, holding it up to examine it fully.

Malik was the first to react, standing up immediately (Ryou's suitcase plummeting to the floor with a thud) and pointing at it, jaw dropped. "R-Ryou, drop that! It's covered in blood!"

Covered was an exaggeration but there was definitely blood on the garment, splattered across the chest. It was old, stained into the fabric and faded with age, but it was there. Unsure of what to do exactly, Ryou just held it, fingers curled around the shoulders. "I- uh, do you think… I mean, the ghosts?"

"Do I think that's their blood?" Malik replied with a laugh. "I don't care if that's their blood. You probably just got AIDS, moron!"

With that, Ryou flung the dress in Malik's direction, the dress falling to his feet. Staring at his hands for a moment, Ryou looked up with a pitiful frown. "Well, now you have it, too." He glanced down at the dress. "… On your feet."

Malik couldn't help but chuckle, kicking to get the offending dress off his feet. Then, he looked at Ryou, expression perplexed. "Now that I've had time to properly worry about what that was, I'm disturbed." He moved back to the bed, kicking off his shoes. "That doesn't even make sense. It was petty criminals killed, right? That wasn't theirs." Then, calming down, he sighed, "So it was planted."

Ryou kneeled down beside the dress, "Don't write it off so quickly. There are plenty of reasons that could be real." Plenty, really, Ryou just had to make them up.

_Ready, Set, Go!_

"Don't look so cheerful," Mariku murmured into his companion's ear, tongue tracing along the rim. They could neither taste nor feel in this state so the gesture was more out of habit.

Bakura's expression was neutral, reddish-brown eyes focused on the boy kneeling down by the dress. He was decent, not an exact replica, but the thief didn't really have room to be picky. "Alright, genius, what do you suggest we do? Wait until they fall asleep and slowl--"

He was cut off by an abrupt laugh, one loud enough that it caught Ryou's ear (faintly, but he still knew it was _something_). "Are you kidding me?" He waved his hand towards the desk, "Candlestick. Knock the morons out."

End Second Sight


	3. Third Sight

**Feel on the Dark**  
written by RL.Angstshipping  
_say good-bye to the hindering past;_

**Warnings: **Boy!sex. Is it necrophilia if they're both dead?

Third Sight

_Like a Virgin_

Though the dramatic undertones were ruined thanks to his companion, Bakura had to confess that the candlestick was a good idea. Lips curving into a malicious grin, the thief pulled away from Mariku and stepped towards the desk. Stroking the cool steel of the candle holder, his pale fingers curled around it. Though he couldn't feel the item in his grasp, there was a sense of satisfaction with what he was about to do. As he picked it up, the plate that originally held it moved ever so slightly, though the motion went unnoticed by the two living beings in the room. With the most conceited expression he'd had since they'd died, he raised the candle and brought it down heavily against the base of Malik's skull, cutting the Egyptian off in mid-sentence (an unimportant one, at that, as he'd been simply trying to persuade Ryou out of believing that it was real blood).

Grunting weakly, Malik fell forward and hit the floor with a loud thump. Too in shock to have caught the other, Ryou's hand immediately went to cover his mouth. "Malik!" The call was obviously late and pointless now. Under different circumstances, Ryou would have been fascinated, even excited, but right now? His best friend was lying on the floor, not moving. He kneeled down on the ground, trying to hover over Malik and make sure the other wasn't bleeding.

It hadn't occurred to him that he might be in danger, too. The force against his head came as a complete shock and with a thud, he hit the floor beside Malik.

With a dark smirk, Mariku approached Malik, examining the boy that could (soon) be considered his host. Giving Bakura one final look, he moved to lie in the exact position Malik was. As he'd predicted, he was able to summon enough energy to take control of the body. Automatically greeted with the excrutiating pain on the back of his head, he couldn't help but grin. Pain was one of those things that he'd always enjoyed and being able to feel it now, after so many years? With a pleased groan, he rubbed the back of his head, and slowly crawled to his feet. Vanity kicking in, he moved to the mirror, examining himself once more. The body looked almost identical to his old one and with him in control, the previously defiant violet eyes now looked pure evil. The one thing that distinguished him completely from the other, though, was the wound on his forehead, scarred over, but still pretty damned obvious. Keh, how dare that dirty old man ruin his perfect face?

At his side, Bakura watched curiously as his lover manuevered his new body, pleased that the other did such a decent job. With a smirk, the white-haired thief took his turn at "second life." A wave of nostalgia and pleasure ran down his spine as the pads of his fingers felt the roughness of the wood floor and the chill of the air. Not to mention the pounding pain in the back of his head. It was beautiful! A chuckle rose up in his throat though the sound was foreign -- louder than his own, perhaps? Higher in pitch?

What did any of that matter? He was actually _talking_. "Mariku!" The strangeness of his own voice filled the room again and he continued, "Maybe you do have a brain in there somewhere." In almost no time at all, he was at the other's side, fingers wrapping around Malik's collar, pulling the body against his own and kissing the violet-eyed thief roughly. God, just feeling this sensation again...

Mariku was about to reply when he felt the other's lips on his. For a moment, his mind wrestled with what was giving him the better sensation -- the throbbing pain in the back of his head or the pleasure from his partner's lips. He bit roughly at Bakura's lips, pulling back enough to whisper tauntingly, "You're laughing, darling. Does it hurt that badly?" His hands slid to Bakura's hips, nails digging in. In a matter of moments, he'd pressed Bakura back against the bed, pinning the paler thief down under him. "Because I'll be happy to make it hurt more."

Though Bakura had honestly almost forgotten how his natural reaction to pain was to laugh (unless, of course, it was during sex -- laughing continously during sex wasn't something he made a habit of doing), Mariku mentioning it forced the memory to snap back. "Che," was his only reply, teeth pressed together lightly, as he leaned in for another kiss. As his tongue slipped out, he could taste blood on his lip, the salty taste enough to jump his (well, Ryou's really) body into action. Pulling the other closer, he ravaged the other's mouth and face once again before he broke off, looking up with half-lidded eyes into the Egyptian's violet ones. "Then hurt me." His voice was quieter than he expected, full of lust, the one emotion his new body was practically screaming.

Breathing heavily, Mariku allowed the lustful feeling to sink in, sucking roughly on Bakura's tongue, occasionally letting his teeth grind against the muscle. It'd been far too long since he'd felt anything like this. One hand moving up to slide under the other's shirt, Mariku let his fingernails (it was amazing how perfect they were; Malik took damned good care of them) scrape along Bakura's chest. "... It's a shame these kids don't pack knives."

Knives? What did Bakura care about knives right now? All the sensations that were flowing through his body, ones that he could _feel_ and feel so strongly, were almost enough to overwhelm him. His muscles were shuddering and he could feel his vision flickering. Gods above, it was worth it to die, just to feel everything bloom inside of him again like a hot, wonderous flame. "Aaohh, gods," he gasped, trying to recall if everything had felt this good when they were alive. With a loud groan, he dug his nails into the other's shoulderblades, dragging them down his lover's back.

Tanned fingers moving skillfully over Bakura's hips, Mariku worked on the other's zipper, body tingling with the sensation of the feel of fabric and rush of lust. Squirming, he pressed his lips to Bakura's neck, relishing for a moment in the other's taste. "Moan for me, you worthless whore," Mariku growled, pressing roughly into the other.

Bakura let his head press into the pillow, nerves so frazzled by everything that was going on, he was struggling to decide on what to do. His hands slipped down Mariku's back down to the other's hands, gripping ahold of them and forcing the fingers to pull the zipper on the other's jeans down. Had anyone else called him what Mariku just had, they would be dead but the tanned blonde? Bakura was used to him saying derogatory phrases like that when he was excited, though, it did spark lustful irritation in the paler of the two. Even still, he lifted his head back further, giving his lover better access to his neck. He felt a rumble bubble up in his throat and he opened his mouth slightly, letting out a deep, throaty moan, answering Mariku's words. He lifted his hips and pressed back against the other, panting already.

"Fucking bastard," he whispered in between breaths.

Realizing he'd already unzipped the other's pants, he slid one hand under the jeans and rubbed against the silky fabric of Ryou's boxers. "Bakura," he groaned, nipping harshly on the thief's neck, "gods, don't be so quiet." He was taunting, his hand doing everything but offering Bakura any sort of actual contact. "We're supposed to haunt the place right? Give them a scream that'll really scare them." Mariku had never been subtle; he'd always preferred noise and suffering, preferred to have his partner vocalize exactly how they were feeling.

And now Bakura was feeling true, physical frustration for the first time in a century. Mariku wanted him to be vocal? Fine. "Ah, you bastard!" he growled, voice slightly louder than a normal talking voice, before gritting his teeth and thrusting into the other's hand. The bite made him gasp before giving out a long, pleased groan. Mariku was taking this far too slowly. Wrapping his arms around his lover, he jerked and turned them over so that he was on top. He forced his mouth onto the other's, quickly undoing Malik's pants.

"Bast--" Cut off as Bakura flipped him over, he narrowed his violet eyes up at the other. Squirming under the touch, "You sick fuck, you can't possibly think that the first time in decades, I'm going to let you top me." Still, it was almost deja vu given that their first time together had ended up with Bakura on top. Then again, Mariku had been a little tipsy... so it didn't really count, right?

Smirking down at Mariku, breathing heavily, Bakura leaned down and bit down on the other's jaw before sucking on it. The taste of flesh was so intoxicating, he couldn't help but want more. Lifting up his lover's legs and jerking the pants off of him (or, more accurately, really far down enough so that he could get what he wanted out of the other), the paler of the two started to grind against the blonde. "You deserve it for putting us through this shit in the first place," he growled, "and I deserve a reward. So bend over, blondie." Of course, there really wasn't room nor was it possible for Mariku to "bend over", still, the saying held meaning enough.

Mariku glared up defiantly at the other, giving his own growl, "Putting us through this shit?" Mariku had nothing to do with their death and even if he had, he certainly wouldn't admit it now. "Not my fault but since I'm desperate, I'll let you have your way." His hands ran over Bakura's hips again, fingers studying the curves of the bones. "Nngh, at least let me dominate the kiss."

To Bakura, it almost felt as if he were falling back into a typical night of fun, though much more intense. Giving a soft, breathy laugh, Bakura pulled back enough to speak. "Fine," he answered, squirming out of the denim, boxers going down as well. "Now I want you to scream," he said, feeling a sense of power and irony as he spoke though he was too caught up in lust to care.

Mariku opened his mouth to protest -- he bowed to no one -- but the sensation of the air on his skin made his voice catch in his throat. The feeling was incredible, what followed even more so. Thankfully, Bakura wasn't one to torture slowly; he more preferred to get things done so it never took him long to "get started."

Bakura did get his scream, though, when he entered Mariku. "F-fuck!" His eyes widened for a moment, leaning up to kiss Bakura one more time, before he laughed, "Shit, I'm a virgin. I haven't had this feeling in a _long_ time." It was amazing though. Pain was, after all, Mariku's greatest form of pleasure.

The term "virgin" being used to describe Mariku was truly hilarious. Bakura almost paused, mid-thrust, to give the other a cocky grin, but instead he didn't stop for a few more. Yes, he was a bastard, but so was his lover. Leaning in, he bit the blonde's neck, hands trailing down the other's sides, raking his nails over the flesh. "Good thing I'm not bottom," he purred, giving a chuckle alongside his words. "If your body is 'pure', we know this one is."

Lost in the ecstacy of pain, Mariku didn't notice that the true owner of the body was slowly regaining consciousness. Clinching the sheets, Mariku knew his body wouldn't last much longer; he was close to release. His body stiffened, eyes closed and...

Opened again, a startled, pained look on the Egyptian's lips. His eyes were now confused, dazed, and groggy. Malik shuddered, only for the fact that someone was on top of-- inside of? -- him to process clearly. A few more moments led him to discover just who it was.

Had he been raped? By Ryou? That didn't make sense.

Despite the pain, Malik couldn't deny the pleasurable feeling coarsing through his body. When he opened his mouth to speak, to inquire, it came out a pathetic moan, "Ryou?"

Bakura, who was panting more now than before, suddenly let his eyes open to look down at the one beneath him. He figured, at first, that the pained groans had been from the other's nearing release but now that he was staring down at his lover -- or his _new_ lover -- he could tell that wasn't the case. Still, in his half-startled haze, he couldn't stop. No, he was not Ryou and Mariku would never call him that. Shit, had the boy returned? ... Gods, who gave a fuck when he was so close...

Grabbing on to the other's hips, he lifted them up a little, leaning down and biting Malik's jaw. Hey, why not milk this for all it was worth? "Try again," he said, voice low and sultry though his tone jerked everytime his middle did the same. "Oh gods." There it was. He could feel it. He was so damned close, he could already feel his muscles tighten and shudder, when suddenly he felt nothing but a lingering sensation of what he had almost had. Frustration hit him like a rock and he let out an aggravated sound.

In his place, Ryou, eyes as wide as they could go, opened his mouth into a gape and let out a strangled noise, his body falling onto Malik's. And having woken up into a white flash of pleasure, his brain was, for the moment, successfully fried.

End Third Sight


	4. Fourth Sight

**Feel on the Dark**  
written by RL.Angstshipping  
_say good-bye to the hindering past;_

Fourth Sight

_Pomp and Circumstance_

_Try again._ The words still echoed in Malik's head. It had been Ryou's voice, sweet and naturally soft, but the tone was one he'd never heard from his friend. Ghosts? Ghosts weren't real but what other explanation was there? Violet eyes on Ryou, Malik leaned in to wrap his arms around the other, almost protectively. He didn't for one minute believe that this was the paler boy's fault. He opened his mouth to speak, to say anything that would assure them both that something weird, something _fucked up_, had happened. Instead, he got a pitiful squeak.

How the hell could this happen? Better question -- what the hell _had_ happened? He squirmed again, the pain that shot through his body convincing him to stay still. Taking a deep breath, he finally managed a strangled, "Ryou? ... Are you okay?"

Body still tingling, Ryou heard his name through the fog and gave a soft groan. He didn't want to move; his body felt so comfortable, so at peace. As his mind started up again, he began to slowly recall where he was. Class field trip, haunted house... Why did he feel this good? Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he tried to focus and recall exactly what had happened. The last thing he remembered was...

Brown eyes flying open, Ryou quickly pushed himself up, for the first time processing just how close he was to Malik. His face instantly turned crimson, mind giving out once more. Why was... how did...

"Malik?" he rasped, feeling his arms and legs shake as though they were about to buckle beneath him. Had they just...? Oh, God, they had. They definitely had. Embarrassed tears jumped to his eyes, mouth opening slightly to beg for forgiveness, clamping shut again once he realized that words refused to surface.

Pulling himself out from under the other, Malik looked over to Ryou, eyes running over the paler boy's body nervously. While he didn't know exactly what had happened, it was obvious about where it had ended up. With a nervous chuckle, he leaned forward, running his fingers through the other's hair, trying to find a soothing action while his mind wrestled for the correct words for the situation. The problem was that in the given situation there were no correct words. Trying to swallow the lump in his throat, Malik murmured, "We, uh..." Was there really any point in stating the obvious? "I have no idea what happened."

Shuddering, Ryou felt the tears in his eyes start to fall. He wasn't who he had been earlier that day, he'd lost something he could never get back, and he couldn't even remember doing it. Yet, that wasn't what got to him most. Now, had he woken up with anyone else... He felt the blush spread down his neck and over his chest, everything burning with a horrified fire. He pulled away from Malik's touch, quickly averting his eyes. He couldn't face his friend even though Malik didn't appear to be angry with him.

"I'm so sorry." The fact that he hadn't consciously done anything didn't seem to matter. The guilt refused to subside. It was only worse that he didn't completely hate the situation. In a way, he was actually _thankful_ for the opportunity to be close to Malik.

"Shh," Malik whispered, trying to scoot closer to the other without making him even more uncomfortable. (Uncomfortable? He was the one with the horrible pain in his backside, damnit.) Brushing his fingers lightly against Ryou's cheek, he added, "Please? I'm not..." No, he couldn't say he wasn't upset. He was very fucking upset but it had nothing to do with Ryou. It hadn't even been Ryou when he came to; he was more certain of that now than ever. _Try again. _The voice had been too chilling, too heartless to be his best friend. "I'm not that upset. Are you--"

He didn't even get the statement out before Ryou latched onto him, pulling him into an awkward embrace. Malik's own cheeks tinted slightly as he wrapped his arms around the other, trying to return the hug. The fact that'd he already had feelings for Ryou didn't make this situation any easier. The thought of asking Ryou for another go surfaced momentarily but Malik quickly smacked it back down. Could he think anything more horrible at a time like this? Still, he _had_ missed out on what was probably the most mind-blowing experience of his life. Would it be so bad to ask the ot--

He had to quit thinking like that. Shyly, he leaned in and kissed Ryou's cheek lightly. To his surprise, Ryou shivered under the touch and turned so it was their lips touching instead. Ryou's brown eyes widened after he realized what he had done and he pulled back slightly, though still not letting go of Malik. Burying his face in the blonde's shirt, he muttered, "I'm fine. Really." What was he supposed to say? _Actually, I'm kind of upset that I wasn't here to experience me having sex with you. _No! That was horrible. He was horrible for thinking it.

The brief kiss made Malik's already pleasure-wracked body shudder, fingers curling into the other's side. His mind felt hazy, jumbled. This feeling was lust. _Lust._ Sure, Malik had experienced it before but never actively and he'd definitely never done anything beyond masturbation (which yes, he'd been thinking of Ryou a few times, a detail that made this entire thing that much weirder.) "Ryou..." He was embarrassed, that was obvious. Ryou'd always seemed to be the more innocent of the two. Tilting his head up so that the other's brown eyes met his own violet, he stuttered, "... Can I... can we... uhm, can I kiss you? I m-mean, you stole one from me. It's payback." Payback sounded a hell of a lot more manlier than, _fuck, please kiss me, you're so cute._

That had been unexpected. Ryou's heart skipped a beat as he studied the other carefully. He'd originally thought that shock had been what made Malik so tolerant of him but now...? It sounded like Malik _liked_ him. _Liked_ him, liked him, too. His mind felt as if it had suddenly been filled with water and his brain was sloshing around, making it hard for him to think of anything, much less what he wanted to say. "Y-yeah," he replied, looking dazed. A kiss. He liked kisses. Especially Malik's kisses.

Malik wasted no time, leaning in and pressing his lips against Ryou's, hands moving to rest on the smaller boy's shoulders. He'd kissed a few people before but he'd never actually been that into it. Now, he was and to be entirely honest, it felt weird. This was their first kiss and they'd already had sex. Hot, steamy sex from the looks of it and Malik hadn't felt a thing.

The kiss was a very, very nice thing. Ryou felt his body melting into a puddle of happy and his eyelids fluttered shut. He kissed back, though he wasn't sure what he was doing as he'd never kissed anyone back before (Miho had snuck one up on him Valentines Day the previous year but he just remained there, frozen and embarrassed.) His own hands moved up and held onto Malik gently but with a longing need to be loved. He no longer cared that he'd just had sex and wasn't even aware of it. Really, though, if they hadn't, he wouldn't be in this position with someone he had been thinking about for a while.

"M-Malik," he whispered, sighing blissfully (and somewhat embarrassed, still), pressing his forehead against the Egyptian's, doing the same with their noses and giving the other an eskimo kiss.

The awkwardness of the kiss made it that much more enjoyable and Malik opened his mouth to let his tongue run over Ryou's bottom lip, savoring the taste of the boy he'd thought about for far too long. He squeezed Ryou's shoulders, hands wanting to drift lower but knowing that it would most likely make the other uncomfortable. Technically, they were both still wearing shirts...

They were still slightly intertwined. ... He was definitely touching the part of Ryou he'd be fantasizing about (and apparently he'd overestimated the other but who the fuck cared?). His breathing hitched and he tried to focus on the kiss, cheeks dark red, a strange combination with his skin tone.

Ryou, once the other shifted, noticed their position and he gave a short, soft gasp. Oh, they were still... There was suddenly a lump in his throat. Through his utter shyness and embarrassment, he turned his eyes up to Malik, staring at him with a shocked, unsure expression. His body wanted him to do _something_ but he honestly wasn't sure he knew exactly what and even if he did, could he do it? His hands slid over the other's arms, heading upwards, before his digits curled around Malik's shoulders. Was Malik still just his friend? They had... had sex, even if they weren't aware of it or not. Did that make them_ lovers_? Together? Ryou was confused but he was also caught up in the moment. Swallowing, with extended effort, he tried to think of something, anything, to say. In a moment of stupidity (or whatever it was), Ryou decided, 'Screw words.' He leaned up and kissed the blonde, nuzzling against him. Would he accidently push things too far or would Malik like this?

Malik, of course, had no issue with being kissed again and took it as a sign that he could push things a little further. He'd always been one to take risks anyway, right? Hands sliding down to the paler boy's hips, he gave a small groan at the feel of the other's bare flesh. His mind was reeling; would this upset Ryou? What if he got scared? _Damnit_, they'd just had sex and he'd felt nothing. He deserved a little gratification, even if it was simply stroking his best friend's hips.

Best friend. That made this increasingly awkward. Breaking the kiss for a moment (though not until after he got a content sigh from the other), though his lips were still barely apart from Ryou's, he murmured the question he was sure the other had to be thinking as well, "Ryou, what does this make us?"

Ryou's body felt as though it were literally melting. The fingers on his body made him squirm, a quiet, joyful sound escaping his lips at that, too. Eyes fluttering open, he looked up at the other, at a loss. "I don't know..." came the honest reply. "We're still best friends..." Best friends? Best friends didn't do what they were doing right now. "Just... a little bit more, too?" His tone was quiet, shy, as if he was unsure of what to say.

Chuckling, Malik muttered, "I could have inferred that much without asking and looking like an idiot." He nuzzled against Ryou's neck, lips grazing over the skin for a moment. "You know... I wouldn't mind if we were something else." He laughed nervously, shaking his head, hair brushing against Ryou's shoulder. "More..."

Feeling rather stupid now, Ryou quickly apologized, though his face heated up as the other kept speaking. He could feel his heart fluttering quickly in his chest and he inquired softly, "R-really? I wouldn't... wouldn't mind that either." He suddenly looked rather goofy, smiling a little but in a dreamy, blissful manner.

Malik felt slightly off himself. With his own smile, he muttered (almost under his breath), "This is Ryou, my boyfriend." Then grinning, he kissed Ryou's cheek. "I like the way that sounds."

"Boyfriend," Ryou chirped, sighing as an odd, warm tingle ran down his spine at the term. The goofy smile had gotten larger and he quickly buried his face in the other's neck. _Boyfriend_. "I really like that, too," he said, sounding almost giddy. Why? Why did he feel so good? So pathetic? He wasn't some love-struck girl... Ah, damnit, he might as well be. "Malik, I..." He paused. Was it too soon to say those three words?

Thankfully, he didn't have to decide. Malik had realized that they were still pantsless, intertwined like they'd just had sex (because technically, they _had_) and commented, "We should probably put our clothes back on."

Ryou's face turned bright red. "O-oh, right!" Even after they had done so much, he still felt a need to hide his, er, lower parts from Malik (though surely the other had seen by now?). This was such a weird situation. But still, around all the awkward embarrassment he felt... very happy.

Malik chuckled, kissing Ryou lightly as he slid out from under the other, body still tingling from the pleasure of the situation before. Pain shot through his backside and he winced slightly, pulling up his pants and zipping them. He should have expected that but the thought hadn't even occurred to him.

The paler of the two instantly felt a wave of guilt rush over him as he noticed Malik's pain. Trying to keep himself covered up and get to his... lover? (yes, lover; the thought made it heart flutter but now wasn't the time!) he reached and grasped the blonde's arm, bending to look the other in the eye. "How bad do you hurt?" he asked quietly, looking horribly upset by the fact that he was the one who caused it, knowingly or not.

"Vaguely like an 18-wheeler ran over my ass," Malik replied with a light smile, obviously (partially) joking. He ruffled Ryou's hair, "Don't worry about it. I'm sure it... dies down, or something? Otherwise, people wouldn't do it, I'd hope." Unless, of course, it felt so good that the pain didn't matter. Pity Malik couldn't be the one to judge. Straightening out his shirt, his gaze settled on Ryou. "I kind of hope no one heard us." On second thought, that was probably a concern he should have kept to himself.

Ryou's eyes widened. "Oh... oh dear." How loud had they been? And what if everyone _did_ hear? Would they still be able to go to dinner? Or would they get kicked out? Trying to calm his thoughts down, he quickly pulled up his own pants and buttoned them.

Malik chuckled nervously. "I think we're safe? It didn't sound that, erm," he blushed, "loud when I woke up. But I don't know about before then."

Ryou nodded slowly, wanting to ask more, to figure out what had happened but he had a feeling that bringing it up wasn't in his best interest. He wanted them to be able to sit here and be this close... and hug and stuff. Asking might make that awkward. He felt himself blush; the entire thing felt ridiculously corny but he'd never been in a relationship before or even really liked someone like he did Malik.

The blush made Ryou look all the more adorable and Malik pulled him into a quick hug, kissing his cheek lightly. Pulling back, he yawned, the action of which startled him. Was he that tired already? It was early wasn't it? Still, the expression on Ryou's face told him that the idea of a nap wasn't so bad. Moving back towards the bed and pulling his new boyfriend with him, Malik took a seat and mentally cursed himself for putting back on his regular clothes. Pajamas would have been a hell of a lot more comfortable.

Leaning forward, Malik pulled up the covers, covering both he and Ryou. "Naptime?" he inquired with a smile, chuckling lightly.

Ryou squirmed even closer to Malik; the Egyptian was so warm and comfortable to lie against. The covers were soft, too, though they were worn with use and smelled slightly of dust. Had they been using the same covers since the murder? "Nap?" he repeated. "Yes, that sounds wonderful." Snuggling closer, Ryou moved to lie down, tugging lightly on Malik to convince the other to do the same. With a content sigh, the paler boy began to drift off almost immediately, a smile on his lips. Wrapping one arm around the other, holding him as close as was possible, Malik fell asleep soon after.

_Have I Told You Lately?_

Mariku had been forced to the ground beside the bed, violet eyes gazing bitterly up at the spot that he had been previously. His eyes briefly locked with Bakura's, long enough for him to be certain that the other knew what had happened. Despite that, the pale thief had continued. Jealousy was the one emotion Mariku could recognize in a heartbeat; everything that was his should remain his. He deserved everything, every object, every person.

He watched with a confident smirk as Bakura was kicked out as well, the latter giving a bitter growl and slamming his fists against the ground. Served him right. Again, his eyes met Bakura and the two stared at each other for a moment. A heavy gasp escaped the Egyptian's lips, the sound of which startled him. Gasp? His body was still tense, too, still wanting what he'd almost had.

Bakura, apparently, noticed this, too, made obvious by the frustrated expression on his face. Had they some how leeched out some of the life from their hosts? That didn't even seem possible.

Narrowing his eyes, Mariku slowly approached his companion, attempting to ignore the pain that jarred up through his leg. Not a good pain, however. The pain of lust was agonizing, torture for the torturer himself. "... You..." He grabbed Bakura's hair, pulling the startled thief (the other had been too busy trying to relieve the horrible sensation) to his face. "You wanted him."

Bakura hadn't expected the twinge of pain that came with the other's grip though that wasn't his priority at the moment. Priority? The other's angry look. Shit, _had_ he wanted the living child? His eyes drifted towards the bed. After being stuck with Mariku for so many decades, the change was nice, but... His eyes flickered back to his partner and he lifted his hands, trying to unhook his hair from the tanned fingers. "What, should I not?" he asked.

Though, with the other's unstable personality, that probably wasn't the best choice of words.

Mariku let go of Bakura's hair, sneer on his lips. "No, no. Of course not." He wasn't upset; he didn't get _upset_. Stepping away from the other, he explained in a calm voice, devoid of emotion, "I'm going back to my room."

Bakura noted the other's hurt (and it _was_ hurt, despite what Mariku would have said). Holding his glaring look, the white-haired thief watched as his partner stood and started to leave. Fucking great. He didn't want to deal with the pissy blonde right now. Of course, the glance back to the teens on the bed reminded him that he didn't want to stay in here either. Climbing to his feet, rubbing his head where Mariku had grabbed his hair, Bakura walked after his lover, not saying a word.

Refusing to turn around, Mariku narrowed his eyes. "Don't follow me," he demanded, tone harsh enough to prove that he really didn't want the other's company; rare, because their entire afterlife, he'd practically been starving for Bakura's attention. Again, something he'd never admit.

Bakura ignored the other's tone though it did irritate him. Maybe he'd been better off with the living kid after all. The way the kid had sounded when he woke up... heh. Even so, he continued to stalk the other spirit, still keeping his mouth shut.

The footsteps behind him were driving him crazy. Mariku rubbed his temples, groaning lowly. His head felt like it was pounding. _Thump, thump, thump._ This was one feeling he'd been glad that he'd lost after dying. So why had it returned?

Abruptly, the Egyptian turned around, his expression one that would normally read as darkly amused. "Darling Thief King," the title was said with disdain, "is there something you want? Surely, not _me_ when you--"

Glare still set into his features, Bakura stormed towards Mariku, even though the other had quit walking. "Shut up," he demanded sternly, before he reached out and grabbed his lover's chin roughly and tugged his face downwards while tipping his own up to smash his lips against the other's.

Mariku looked down at him, violet eyes flashing dangerously. His body twitched ever-so-slightly, begging him to just flick his tongue across Bakura's lips, but he controlled it. He wouldn't give in, wouldn't respond to something as pathetic as this, as desperate as this. Pulling back, he smirked at the other, arms folding across his chest. "You're never satisfied, are you?" he taunted, chuckling coldly. Then, turning his back to Bakura, he waved his hand dismissively over his shoulder. "I told you, I'm not interested. Go find another toy."

Letting out a low growl, Bakura stepped forward, landing a punch to the back of Mariku's (metaphorical) skull. Angry? Of course, he'd attempted to be _nice_ and got treated like this (though, really, what had he expected from Mariku?). "You're not good at anything but fucking things up, anyway," he spat furiously.

The other stumbled forward, tanned hand moving instinctively to the back of his head. This was the first pain from fighting he'd felt in a long time, though it still felt empty. Mariku had no heart to pump quickly after the first punch was thrown, no blood to rush through his body. He turned quickly to face Bakura, hissing, "I can say I'm glad to know you mean that."

For Bakura, the punch hadn't let off as much steam as he'd hoped it would. Holding his hand in a tight fist, he retorted, "You're such a fucking dumbass. You go and mope and when I try to come make you feel better, you shove me off. I'm sick and tired of you and your bratty little attitude." One taste of being alive and he was exaggerating everything again.

Mariku's face fell slightly though the Egyptian quickly replaced the expression with a smirk, laughing loudly. "Try to make me feel better? Is that what you call it?"

Bakura gave a sneer. "I don't know why I've put up with you all this time anyway," he commented, voice plain as if it were casual conversation, "especially when we were alive." If it was a fight the Egyptian wanted, it was a fight he would get.

Mariku hid the frown that followed, fingers twitching slightly against his belt loop. His feeling had returned as had his strange habits. His answer was as calm as Bakura's, "Alive I had my body." He sounded almost nonchalant now. "That is why you dealt with me. Now, you hardly have a choice." They were both tied to this cursed house, tied to each other. He let his tongue roll over his lip, a gesture meant to calm him down (despite the exterior, his mind was still reeling).

If he'd been able to spit, the brown-eyed thief would have done so on the wooden floor. Yes, the sex had been good, but after a certain point, not even that would have convinced him to stay with Mariku for as long as he had (before death, of course, since after death, he had no option of leaving.) "Fuck you," he growled before turning and storming away.

And to think, things had started to look up, too.

End Fourth Sight


	5. Fifth Sight

**Feel on the Dark**  
written by RL.Angstshipping  
_say good-bye to the hindering past;_

**Author's Note:** We're baaack. Sorry for the lengthy delay (what was it, five months?) in our story. You've continued to amaze us by still adding this story to your alerts and favorites, so thank you very much! Hopefully this chapter won't disappoint.

Fifth Sight

_Too Much Time Between You and I_

The first thing that a person did after a fight with a longtime-lover (and it was hard to think of Bakura as anything but that, couple or not) was generally to mope. Wallow in misery and think of how wretched life (or in this case, death) was. That was not the case for Mariku. His emotions connected with the fight, while they hadn't disappeared, faded quickly the moment Bakura was out of sight and his mind almost immediately shifted to something else. He'd felt _pain_. It had been minuscule, but it was there. He hadn't gotten to enjoy it, as he'd been too caught up in the argument, but now he had the chance to really appreciate it. Moving against the wall, he gave a heavy sigh, focusing on the small ache from Bakura's punch.

How was this possible? What switch had been flicked on that allowed Mariku, who'd gone decades without pain, to be able to feel it once more? Whatever it was, he was thanking whatever God or gods that existed for it. It subsided far too quickly (though given how little it actually was, that was no surprise), and Mariku was left only with a memory. There had to be some way to get that feeling again, a way to even intensify it. As greedy as it was, Mariku was already wanting more.

Standing up straight, he started down the hallway with the intention of going back to his room (the master bedroom, though given their current guests, it was occupied). There was a group of boys standing in the hallway, talking about something mundane (he overheard bits and pieces describing a girl that actually caught his attention -- clearly, despite it killing him, he still had his lust), that normally would have been of no interest to him. Unless...

He could _feel_ pain, so could he cause it? Bakura and he weren't entirely incapable of affecting the outside world, though it was generally only possible when they were extremely emotional. It was even rarer for them to be able to control what physical actions came from said emotions. Now that he had that buzz of pain, was he more... alive? Would he be able to actually focus his energy and control his actions?

He approached the boys, placing his hand on the shoulder of the one closest to him. He tensed, probably feeling that awkward chill that humans always got when they came in contact with ghosts. What to do, what to do? The decision was a hard one, especially since Mariku didn't know how much force would be required to hurt a live being. Then again, it wouldn't really be an issue if he used 'too much' force. If anything, he'd enjoy that more.

He couldn't make the boy to turn around, so he relied on hitting him with as much strength as he could muster up in the lower back. His victim stumbled forward, falling onto another boy who then managed to not only knock over a vase, but land on it, ending up with a shard cutting into the hand that he'd tried to catch himself with. Not directly Mariku's doing, but there was blood and he'd been, in part, the cause for it. That alone made him grin, giving him a giddy feeling that he hadn't felt in years. It was purely sadistic, and without a doubt, his favorite emotion. As much as he wanted to watch the boys' reactions, he was too excited to stay still. He needed to find Bakura, needed to tell him what he'd found out. His discovery took precedence over their earlier fight.

He knew exactly where he'd find the other; the attic had become Bakura's bedroom/sancutary over their years together in the house. While Mariku would occasionally worm his way in there, he was usually kind enough to stay away (though his kindness was mostly sparked by his preference for his own room). Now, however, he hurried up into the attic. It hadn't been long at all since their fight, and Bakura was more than likely still furious with him, but he simply didn't care. "Oi, oi, Bakura!"

Staring down at where that damnable bus had been, when it had dropped these little brats off, Bakura felt fist clenching and unclenching under his chin. Oh, he was pissed. How dare that God-damned, ungrateful, insignificant fuck-up... who the _fuck_ did Mariku think he was, anyway?

His body was still tingling with the horribly tormenting sensation of what he could have had, had that little bastard -- Ryou? -- not woken up. Lust. Lust had never been a bad thing until now. He was so fucking _frustrated_.

He visibly jerked when mariku's voice rang out behind him. Whirling around, he glared hatefully at the blonde, gritting his teeth and baring them much like an animal. "What the fuck do you want, Ishtar?" he spat, knowing that using his last name would serve as more of a stab than just not acknowledging him at all.

Mariku took a moment before he answered Bakura, happily soaking in the other's anger and using it to add to his feeling of euphoria. What a delightful feeling to have once more! (In the past, Mariku had always enjoyed feeding off of his partner's hatred similar to that of a leech feeding off blood.) "So bitter," he drawled with a small chuckle, shaking his head.

The fact that Mariku was getting off to his anger only made it flare up more. It was a problem that really caused itself. No one fucking used Bakura, nor did they laugh at him. _No one._ He began to growl low in his throat, feeling his teeth creaking under the pressure he was forcing them to be put under.

"Go to Hell," he spat, too furious for words.

Yet, Mariku still ignored him. "I made one of our visitor's bleed," he grinned, taking a few steps closer to the thief. That was a bit of an exaggeration, as he'd only indirectly caused the incident, but as Bakura was no where near as sadistic as he was (in fact, he tended to to be masochistic, a feat that made him a perfect complement to the Egyptian) he felt that he didn't need to elaborate. Bakura would have no interest (or little interest) in physically harming their guests. Instead, what Mariku thought would be most important to him was, "We can affect physical beings. We can _touch_ the human world, all on our own."

At first, Bakura hardly cared for Mariku's words, seeing too much red to hear anything at all. After a few moments, it began to sink in. As fucking pissed off as he was... He held up one of his hands and stared at it before clenching it into a fist slowly. They could...

"How is that possible?" he asked to no one. "_How_?" He turned back and stared once more at that spot where the bus had been, the fisted hand flattening back out and settling against the glass. Only when one exerted enough energy did it become a physical form -- he froze, now unable to look away from the spot where his hand had been. There was a fog, as there would have been from a drastic change in temperature. There was suddenly sound, a breathy one, as Bakura began to laugh.

It didn't matter how anymore -- no, this was a wonderful blessing! Not only could they feel pain, but they could interact with the world around them! Perhaps not by much, but... "This came from the possessions," he muttered to himself as he spun around, only then remembering Mariku stood there.

Still, Mariku fed off of his anger, grinning as the other slowly understood what he'd said. He'd moved just a bit closer, in attempts to hear what Bakura had been saying to himself. Possessions? Was that plausible? It was the event that took place just prior to the discovery. If that was the case, there had to be a way to leech even more life (is that what they were doing?) from the two boys. It was a blessing in disguise, just as Mariku had suggested when Ryou and Malik had first arrived. Keh, and Bakura had doubted him!

With a heavy glare in the blonde's direction, Bakura elbowed his way past the other. "If this continues, we might be able to leave this damned house," he began, a thought that hadn't yet crossed Mariku's mind. He'd been too focused on causing pain, maybe even_death_, so when the other mentioned it, he grinned. That grin quickly faded however when Bakura continued with a cruel smirk, "I can't wait for that -- I'll finally be free of _you_." With those words, Bakura left the attic, intent on testing just how far he could go with his newfound power.

Mariku watched him in silence. They'd be able to leave, but he'd be alone? It wasn't as if Mariku had never been alone before, but he fed off of other people, off their pain and agony. He could find more, no doubt about that, he would just lose the one person that had managed to become close to him.

He moved to the window, glancing at the dirt road. It was strange, but he still could remember walking up it, grinning and laughing with Bakura. That reality was one long past, something he'd never get back. Was second life really worth the trouble?

( P A S T )  
_Last Rites To Sleepless Nights_

Kicking the dirt path before them, Mariku grinned as he caused a small storm of dust. This was no ordinary night and he was excited (and impatient). Bakura and he had made a deal: they'd wipe this guy's mansion clean and then, with the money they'd saved up over the years, 'retire' and live overly luxurious, somewhere other than this hideous place. Forever.

The idea of settling down had done nothing to deflate Bakura's ego. He was always a self-confident and cocky man, but right now? He wouldn't have been worried if the fucking army came at him, guns drawn.

"Where would you want to go?" the pale thief questioned, turning his gaze to his blonde companion.

That question was a hard one to answer. Together, they'd managed to travel all over and seen so many cities and towns, that picking a place to actually _stay_ seemed impossible. "A house by the beach," was the answer Mariku finally settled on, grinning to the other. "The women are always sexier near the ocean," he snickered, though he couldn't keep his violet eyes on Bakura. Instead, he focused on swallowing the lump in his throat. Almost three years with this man -- Mariku had not only learned to drop his typical hateful attitude around him, but he'd grown attached to him as well. Perhaps a little more than that, though Mariku found it hard to admit otherwise. He was a kid (well, he had been; he'd just turned 18 not too long ago), whereas Bakura was... not so much a kid. That had never stopped them from fooling around but...

Bakura quirked a brow as he noticed the way Mariku had been eying him. He was amused at the other's wish to live by the beach; Mariku had never really seemed interested or upset when they'd set up their home near one once. He chuckled, replying, "Of course they are. They're there to show off."

Mariku looked up ahead at the house they were approaching, "Oi, we'll have something like this one then?" It was huge, a place he could have never pictured himself in, had he never met Bakura. Then, he looked to Bakura, grinning at him, "I'd put those women to shame, though."

"Something like it, but then," Bakura smirked, trailing off as he stepped closer to Mariku. He let his hand swivel up and brush against the nape of the blonde's neck. "We could always go for bigger."

Mariku leaned against the warmth and chuckled, "Nn, we'll never get something to match the size of your ego." He leaned in though, stealing a quick kiss from Bakura. He was years younger but just as tall (a few inches taller, actually). To keep the other from seeing his expression, however, he grabbed the older man's arm (not his hand; he was careful in choosing) and pulled him forward. "Hurry up! The sooner we're done, the sooner I can get completely plastered in celebration."

Bakura's attitude was too good to be hindered from the other making it impossible to make the kiss something more. He was excited and his hormones were doing nothing to help the matter, but damn, it would feel so much better to get it afterwards. "And a celebratory fuck will be in order," he added, though he certainly wouldn't turn down the alcohol.

"Besides, this shouldn't take more than an hour, and then we'll be filthy rich bastards."

( P R E S E N T )  
_Crumble and Break_

It was several hours later (though after existing for so long, one tended to forget exactly how time passed for the living) when Bakura found himself watching the two humans that had 'helped' him out. Seeing them breathe and laugh and _feel_ -- oh, he would be able to do it all again soon. He could practically taste it and it was _delicious_. With a low chuckle, he idled behind them, noting how Mariku's human walked a little more carefully than his own. Malik, of course, had every reason to walk carefully, given how sore he was from the sex he'd... well, how could he really describe it? He hadn't meant to have it, but it hadn't been forced upon him? At least, not in the usual sense.

Pride bubbled up in Bakura, knowing that he had caused the other's discomfort, though he was cut short in congratulating himself when Ryou cried out, "Ah!" They -- he and Malik -- had been heading down to the dining hall. The rooms around them seemed to be empty, probably because their temporary inhabitants had already gone to dinner. It had been nice, being alone with Malik, up until the moment was ruined and he stumbled, crashing into the blonde, almost knocking him over. As he righted himself and apologized profusely, he lifted his foot, seeing a rather large piece of broken glass. What the...? Looking around, he understood that it must have been from the vase -- the vase had been broken? But by who? And why had no one cleaned it up? This was dangerous! Not to mention, with his luck, the teacher would walk up and think they'd done it.

Malik managed to steady himself, glancing down at the vase with contempt. Leave it to a group of teenagers to break something and not bother to take the time to sweep it out of the way. (And leave it to Ryou to trip over it.)

Reaching down, Ryou shuddered as he felt suddenly chilled, his eyes darting to where he'd thought he had seen something. It had been a trick of the shadows, but that didn't stop his heart from racing. As he shook it off and then went to pick up the jagged piece, he gasped, his hand ice cold and _pained_. He tried to let go of the glass, but he couldn't -- his hand wouldn't move. It wouldn't obey him; it literally felt like someone was holding their hand around his and forcing it to stay shut.

Whereas he'd been about to comment on the other's clumsiness, Malik hesitated when the other picked up the shard of glass. "What are you doing?" If he'd been trying to move it, wouldn't he have let go by now? Judging by the blood trickling down his boyfriend's arm, Ryou was actually squeezing it. "Ryou, stop!"

Ryou's fingers finally snapped open and the glass fell to the ground, breaking into even more shards. Staring at his now opened hand, the green-eyed teen watched as the blood that had bubbled up now flowed freely. He didn't comprehend much except for that and the vague pain that was only starting to creep up his arm.

Beside them, Bakura, who was once more wearing a smirk that could only fit the devil, surveyed the damage he had caused. It appeared that they could, in fact, cause harm. The hand he'd only just had on Ryou's gripped the boy's wrist, holding it still while he ran his tongue over the crimson substance he hadn't gotten to taste in so damned long, feeling it slip down his throat and then into every bone, down to the tip of his digits. With a pleasant shudder, he pulled back (having snapped back from his almost drunken stupor), just in time to see Ryou collapse.

Malik wasn't able to do much but barely catch the other, sinking down to the floor easily. It was better to just let the other lie down than try to hold him up. "... Ryou?" He managed to keep himself from sounding too frantic, though given the situation, it was probably well deserved.

The pale teen (now starkly so) didn't react for a moment, but then, slowly, his head rolled to the side, and he groaned quietly. After a few more of these actions, he blinked his eyes open, but they were hazy and he couldn't focus or see. They sharpened but only mildly. "Malik," he whispered. At the sound of his own voice, he seemed to snap back into the world's present. Lifting his hand again, he saw that there was still blood. In fact, it hadn't even stopped bleeding. It was not a very deep or big wound but it should have at least started clotting up. "I need a bandage," he said, more to himself, and then wiped the blood on his pants. Turning his eyes to his boyfriend (ee, even bleeding and confused, he still got a giddy feeling just from looking at the other), he asked, "Did... I just pass out?" He was being nonchalant about this, but really, he was in shock.

Malik, too, was at a loss for words. Watching in mild disgust as the other wiped the blood on his pants, though really, he couldn't blame Ryou. What was he supposed to do? Let it gush out and dry on his hand? A bandage, though, seemed like something that would be hard to find. He stood up, taking Ryou's uninjured hand and tugging him to his feet. "I guess we'll still go to the dining room," he suggested. "I'm sure Mrs. Kinomiya will have a first-aid kit." That had to be a requirement for a class trip; someone was bound to hurt themselves.

"I honestly don't know what happened," Malik replied nervously. "Do you remember picking up that shard?"

Ryou, however, was unable to shake off how upset he was. First the sex, and now this... The sex they had sort of played off. In the end, it really hadn't been bad for them. In fact, it had brought them closer together. They had, however, unconsciously _had sex_.

On Malik's end, he'd managed to keep an outwardly calm appearance. He didn't want to think about what had led him (his body, more accurately) to have sex with Ryou. He could still hear his best-- boyfriend's voice, in a tone that he'd never heard from the other. '_Try again_.' They were in a haunted house, but he was still intent on convincing himself that ghosts weren't real, that this trip was stupid, and...

That wasn't working out so well. His sister always said everything happened for a reason -- maybe that's all it had been? Destiny tired of them waiting for them to admit how they felt...? Yeah, likely excuse.

"Yeah," came Ryou's answer, delayed as it was. Before they could start to the dining room, however, Ryou added, snapping out of his haze, "Malik, wait. I'll just... I have a shirt that I brought with me that I could get dirty. I'll just clean off with that." He really didn't want want to cause a big fuss. "I was just going to move the glass out of the middle of the hallway. I mean, until someone cleaned the rest up," he rattled off, watching as more blood bubbled up from the gash on his hand. "I just... couldn't let go."

This was the kind of thing he would have been excited over, if it hadn't been an actual wound. "Malik, do you think... we pissed them off somehow?" he asked, his voice now low.

Bakura, standing off a bit from them, could only chuckle lowly. Humans were truly pathetic; that's why he had no remorse for them.

Malik wanted to protest and insist that the other get medication for the wound, but Ryou's second question caught his attention. "Ryou, ghosts aren't real." That had become some sort of mantra for him now. Frowning, he continued, "Even if they were, we didn't do anything."

Giving his lover an incredulous look, Ryou hissed, "Malik, weird shit is happening. We're in a _haunted_ house." Was the blonde seriously this in denial or was he an idiot? Okay, that was a little harsh but...

Flexing his hand, despite that he knew he shouldn't, Ryou grit his teeth at the pain. "And if they're not mad, then why are they going after us and not anyone else? I'm sure people would be freaked out if they woke up with no memory of doing something or had no control over their body!" He frowned, growing more upset by the minute, "Malik... what if they're playing with us? I mean, they've been dead for so long... what if it's just for fun?" But then, 'fun' didn't generally entail sex and blood. "Sick fun, but..."

Crap, what if they didn't stop? They had been thieves, right? Wasn't it likely that they were mad about their death and vengeful?

Malik rolled his eyes, "I still think these things are rigged." Even he was finding that excuse to be weak though -- one couldn't rig possession and make two teenagers unknowingly have sex with each other. "If they were really that vindictive and having fun like that, wouldn't they go after more than just us?" Though they'd kept quiet about what had happened to them; maybe some of their other classmates had, too. "We can only be so interesting."

"Rigged?" In attempts to hide his irritation with the other, Ryou ended up sounding almost desperate. "Malik, how would they have rigged these things? Do you think people were hiding somewhere and then drugged us and put us in that position?" He stopped, however, when he remembered in a flash seeing Malik collapse to the floor and feeling a striking pain in the back of his head. A very solid one. They had to have been knocked out, which certainly made him question himself but then... there was no one in that room! There hadn't been; Ryou was positive of it.

Still, it was hard to believe that they were the only ones being picked on. Confused, he murmured, "Malik, what if it gets worse?"

"Worse?" Malik was beyond protesting that the house wasn't actually haunted, though he was still clinging to the hope that it was all fake. "We wouldn't be on a field trip to a house where 'worse' things happen." They could be assured of that, right? Though really, having sex with your best friend when neither of you instigated it was pretty major.

As much as the idea of ghosts fascinated him, this wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't how he wanted it. "Malik, I don't want anything to happen to you," Ryou whispered, gripping Malik's hand (which he only just realized he was still holding) tight. "I mean," he shrugged, lifting his injured hand minimally. It still hadn't stopped bleeding, but he was at a loss for what to say. Hadn't he promised Malik before they even stepped inside that he'd protect him?

"Let's go back to the room and I'll fix this up. Then we can get some dinner." Neither of them seemed too enthused about the latter statement; it was hard to be hungry at a time like this.

"Alright," Malik whispered, frowning as he looked down at Ryou's hand. "Ryou, nothing will happen to me."

They both started to the room, Malik allowing Ryou to use him for support. Normally a hand wound wouldn't require such care, but Ryou _had_ passed out once already. Who knew if he'd do it again?

Ryou was still irritated that Malik blew everything off that happened with such... ignorance. He wanted to continue pressing the subject, but then, like Malik, he also wanted to avoid it. For now. He'd bring it up later -- there always had to be a closure to everything, after all.

When they got to the room, Ryou jerked away from Malik's hold and collapsed along the wall, leaving a bloody smear. He didn't fall this time, regaining his composure. It happened so slowly and yet too quickly, all at once. Ryou turned to face Malik again, bangs shadowing his face and a cruel, cold smirk set in place. His eyes glinted with a terrible, dangerous light that would never fit his friend. In a chillingly calm (and yet, still vaguely delighted) way, Ryou's lips parted and the not-Ryou spoke in a voice that caused a shiver to run down the blonde's spine:

"So you _really_ don't believe in ghosts?"

End Fifth Sight


End file.
